


Good Company

by DeskGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Drabble, Ducks, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Short One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: Some of the loveliest moments in life are the quiet, everyday ones. Like a walk in St. James's Park with good company.





	Good Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My friends](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+friends).

> This is a gift drabble written for those lovely people who came together to raise funds for a friend of mine who was in need. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The weather in London proved pleasant that afternoon, which, all things considered, was rather exceptional, really. A miracle, one might even venture to say.

Naturally, Aziraphale and Crowley took the opportunity to meet for tea and to walk through the park—not to discuss any Great Plans or looming threats, but rather, because they had no such things to discuss, and so far neither one had ever turned down the chance to spend a few minutes of blessed silence (pardon the pun) with the other.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to bring the bread, which he’d quite forgotten, and he was now being eyed by the ducks of St. James’s Park in much the same way he had been by those angry Frenchmen so many years ago when he made the mistake of popping over to Paris for crepes at the worst possible time. Luckily, Crowley, in a surprising show of thoughtfulness, presented birdseed in two paper bags with a small flourish and an obvious bit of devilry, considering there was nowhere on his person he could have been hiding them.

Aziraphale tried to imagine Crowley wearing any sort of functional pockets, purses, backpacks, or—he bit the inside of his cheek to avoid laughing at the mental image of Crowley wearing a fanny pack. He graciously accepted the seed bag and began making nice with the ducks before they became aware of their far greater numbers and declared a revolution.

“I have to say, this is unusually nice of you,” Aziraphale said with a teasing lilt to his words as he threw out handfuls of seed.

Crowley made a face like he’d tasted something disgustingly sweet. “You know what’s not nice? Feeding the ducks bread. It’s bad for them, you know.”

“O-oh?” Aziraphale’s expression pinched as he thought about all the bread he’d fed to oh so many ducks over the decades. “You’re sure?”

“It’s not like they hunt down free-range baguettes in the wild, now do they?”

“No. No, I suppose not. But then, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Crowley turned to face Aziraphale before slowly and exaggeratedly gesturing to himself from head to toe and back again.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Wait a minute, why are you throwing your birdseed over there?” Aziraphale gestured, scattering millet, cracked corn, and sunflower seeds as he pointed to the green grass where Crowley had been tossing all his seed—in the opposite direction of the ducks. Aziraphale frowned as he noticed the seeds looked rather different than the ones in his own bag. “Crowley, what are you throwing, exactly?”

Crowley smiled slyly. “The seeds of discord.”

“And what will the seeds of discord grow into?”

“Oh, a number of things. Thistle, clover, yarrow, and my personal favorite: bishop’s weed. Invasive, aggressive, stubborn, and it takes over everything. The Recreation Department won’t know what hit them. They’ll spend the next five years in a losing battle, going home tired and frustrated every night. Probably hire a few private companies, spread the misery around. Little old ladies with too much free time on their hands will complain to anyone willing to listen and everyone else who doesn’t want to listen. They’ll push their friends, family, and neighbors to the breaking point before the first year is out. It’s a slow burn, but it burns deep.”

Crowley’s delighted smile was dampened by Aziraphale’s obvious displeasure. Aziraphale stood with his arms crossed, brows furrowed and mouth pursed. His disapproving aura was somewhat ruined by the ducks waddling around his feet and occasionally stretching their necks up to try and pilfer the seed bag dangling from his hand.

Crowley rolled his eyes and held out his arms. “Oh don’t give me that look, Angel. You knew what you were getting yourself into the first time you asked me to lunch. If you wanted polite company, you should’ve invited one of your coworkers from Upstairs.”

“Oh goodness, no. Can you even imagine?” Aziraphale gave a shake of his head and returned to doling out birdseed.

Crowley snorted. “I really can’t. Not anymore.”

“Besides,” Aziraphale said softly and mostly to himself, “I’d rather have _good_ company any day.”

Crowley floundered before recovering and turning back to his mildly evil work, pretending he hadn’t heard.


End file.
